


Your boots in the middle of the floor

by Deputychairman



Category: due South
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, Fraser hurts so pretty, Good for the Soul, M/M, Ray's suffering does things for me too, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2012-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-18 06:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deputychairman/pseuds/Deputychairman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray’d slept next to Fraser on the ground lots of times. Also in the car a couple times, and down the hall from him in the empty Canadian Consulate that one time. So it shouldn’t have felt different to have him here in Ray’s apartment. But hearing Fraser brush his teeth from behind the bathroom door made something twist in his chest that he knew he was better off not thinking about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your boots in the middle of the floor

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Seussian and Kiwi for beta, and encouragement, and being so damn enthusiastic about how you liked this story. So enthusiastic I almost don't mind if no-one else likes it. *Pretends to be all grown up and not mind*
> 
> Also, on spelling, for those that care about that sort of thing: I'm British, writing the POV of an American character, who was played by a British-born Canadian actor, in a Canadian show set in the US, so if it all comes out as some mid-atlantic mess let's pretend it's intentional meta-commentary on my part shall we?
> 
> (This is quite a defensive author's note isn't it? I'll work on that if I ever write anything else.)

It was actually Frannie who noticed Fraser’d been gone a while, and Ray who found him on the floor in the men’s room. The gross and disgusting floor in the men’s room, that no-one would ever want to be on if they could possibly be anywhere else, especially not if you were someone as clean as Fraser. He was sitting up though, and managed a smile he probably thought was reassuring when he saw Ray.

“Hi, Ray,” he said. “I seem to be…passing blood,” – he gestured hazily towards the urinals –  “And it seemed prudent to sit down for a moment.”

Ray’s heart stopped beating for a second and then started again with a horrible thud as he told himself to get his shit together and _help_ , dammit, not stand there and freak out while Fraser maybe died of internal bleeding in the actual worst place in the whole world a person could die. He didn’t want anything bad to happen to Fraser, and really particularly not in _here_. So he took a deep breath and made himself stay calm.

He squatted down next to Fraser and tried not to look worried, but a close-up of his bruised face didn’t help with that. He’d gone very pale and his eye was really swelling up. For once he looked like what he was – a guy looking at forty who’d lost an unfair fight. And hey Ray, his conscience said, shall we think about how he ended up on his own in that unfair fight _now_ , or save it for later?

“Yeah, that sounds real prudent to me, Fraser,” he managed. “I also think it would maybe be prudent if I run you down to the ER, get you checked out, what d’ya say?” And god please let him say yes and make this easy. Please don’t make him wait till he passes out so we can get him outta here on a stretcher.

“Ah. Yes, I think that’s probably a good idea,” Fraser conceded.

“And how’s standing up sound? Good idea or not such a good idea?”

Fraser thought about that. “I can stand up,” he decided, but he took Ray’s outstretched hands to pull himself up, and let Ray wrap an arm around him and walk him slowly out back to the car.

 

* * *

                      

He was in with the docs for a long time and Ray waited for him. Dief waited too, whining at the doors and at the candy machine and putting his head in Ray’s lap like he didn’t like being in the hospital, which - Ray could relate to that. But then who _did_ like hospitals? Maybe if you delivered babies you liked ‘em, but Ray only ever went to hospitals for sick people and shot people and ODs and stupid Mounties who got beat up by the mob when their partners didn’t back them up.

 

Someone came to get him eventually and he panicked. It must’ve showed on his face because the doc said,

“No, no, don’t worry! Mr Fraser has had a blow to the head so we like to have someone else with him while I explain some things, make sure he remembers what he needs to watch out for. He wasn’t sure if you’d still be here…”

That hurt a little, that Fraser would think he’d go off and leave him in the hospital. But he looked so relieved to see Ray when the doctor pushed the curtain aside that Ray decided he wasn’t going to mind it.

“Hi, Ray. Thanks for waiting for me,” Fraser said, struggling to sit up from where he’d been leaning against the wall. Ray waved him back and waved off the thanks with the same gesture.

“S’okay,” he managed, but he felt all choked up all of a sudden at the sight of Fraser in his Henley looking so wiped out and thanking Ray for not ditching him.

 

The doctor was addressing him, then Fraser, then him again. She was saying,

“…so there’s no absolute medical need for Mr Fraser to stay in overnight, but normally we do prefer to know there’s going to be someone there, in case anything changes…”

Fraser looked miserable now.

“I would really rather not stay in the hospital,” he said. “But the Consulate…” His gaze was fixed somewhere in midair between Ray and the doctor like he was embarrassed. But Ray knew a cue from Fraser if ever he heard one and jumped right in.

“Course you can’t stay at the Consulate, come to my place,” he said.

He knew Fraser’s next line too, which was some protest he didn’t remotely mean and Ray didn’t even let him get started.

“Outta national pride I cannot let you in the Canadian Consulate looking like that, Frase. The lost tourists are gonna think the CPD have lost control of the streets.”

He was setting Fraser up for some straight-faced crack about collaborative policing and how the 2-7 did seem to need Canadian help most days, but it never came. He ditched the banter and said, “Seriously, Fraser: you gotta come home with me. Doc, it’s fine: I’ll keep an eye on him, ok?”

And the doctor smiled like that was all settled and held out the discharge forms for Fraser to sign.

                       

He walked out of the hospital under his own steam but he didn’t do his tunic up. Ray hadn’t ever seen him leave it undone like that, and if he’d ever privately wondered what Fraser would look like all mussed up, the images his brain supplied never came with blood on his shirt and tape on his nose and a split lip, and definitely, definitely not with that sort of _lost_ look he still had, like he wasn’t sure what he was doing in the hospital, or with Ray, or in the goddam country as far as Ray knew.

He did seem happy enough to be going home with Ray though, and the wolf certainly was, which Ray personally saw as a useful barometer of Fraser’s feelings on stuff sometimes. The wolf liked casa del Ray just fine, and if Ray stayed on his good side maybe he’d pass that memo on to Fraser.

 

* * *

 

Ray didn’t have a spare room and Fraser didn’t want to take Ray’s bed. All his nervous tells came out and he looked away and then at Ray’s feet while he refused.

“You’re already being kind enough to let me stay; I won’t put you out of your bed as well. I’ll be perfectly alright on the floor,” he said.

Ray was almost annoyed. Sometimes he could tell when Fraser was saying something to get you to do the opposite, or making a dig at him without coming right out and saying it. Hell, Ray had been married for 12 years; _he_ knew when _thank you for doing the dishes_ meant, _and why can’t you pick up your damn socks off the bathroom floor?_

But here he didn’t know if Fraser was actually mad at him for the whole not-going-after Warfield from the start thing. Or if Fraser was indulging his masochistic martyr complex, which Ray was raised a Catholic and knew all about thank you very much. He wasn’t ever going to open a conversation with Fraser about it, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know what went on there sometimes. Or he didn’t know if there was some other inexplicable rule of northern etiquette that stopped a guy from sleeping in someone else’s bed when he had cracked ribs and a bashed in face.

“No, Fraser, I am not being _kind_!” Ray told him. “I am being your friend, ok? I probably already mentioned at some point that I like you and I like hanging out with you, and I like when you come round here; so no, this is not _kind_.”

Even Fraser – especially Fraser – couldn’t resist being told point blank that somebody liked him. Ray saw him struggle not to smile and pressed his advantage.

“You put me up that time at the Consulate, and I did not sleep on the floor. You got cracked ribs, Fraser; the floor is not your friend. Me, on the other hand, I’ve never been better, and the floor is like my best pal from high school and we are gonna hang out tonight, ok?”

But Fraser shook his head. “You always complain when I make you sleep on the floor. You say you can’t sleep, in fact.”

Ray fought back a sigh of frustration. “Ok look,” he said, “C’mere.” He beckoned to Fraser to get up.

And his better judgement yelled at him real loud for a second what the hell was he _thinking_ , this was _not_ a smart idea, _don’t_ suggest this! But then he saw Fraser wince as he rose so he shook that off and lead him into the bedroom, gesturing expansively.

“So here’s the deal. This, my friend, is a big bed. You will sleep _here - ”_ he pointed to the left side, “- and I will sleep _here - ”_ he pointed to the right, “And neither of us is making friends with the floor tonight because who needs new friends anyway, right? I got you, I’m good for friends.”

Apparently that really was Ray’s secret weapon, because Fraser hesitated like he was going to give in. “Deal?” Ray insisted.

He was still pleasantly surprised when Fraser bit his lower lip and said, “Ok, Ray; deal.”

“Right then. Good. Greatness! Compromise is good, see?”

“Yes, Ray,” said Fraser obediently.

 

* * *

 

Ray’d slept next to Fraser on the ground lots of times. Also in the car a couple times, and down the hall from him in the empty Canadian Consulate that one time. So it shouldn’t have felt different to have him here in Ray’s apartment. But hearing Fraser brush his teeth from behind the bathroom door made something twist in his chest that he knew he was better off not thinking about. It had been a long time since he’d lived with the domestic sounds of another human being moving around and getting ready for bed: not since he still had a wife and a married future mapped out. You didn’t realise the intimacy behind those noises until there wasn’t anybody there making them anymore, and there wasn’t anyone’s stuff crowded in with yours in the bathroom and tangled in with yours in the laundry.

He’d never asked exactly, but he didn’t think Fraser had ever lived alongside anyone like that in his whole adult life.

Ray didn’t know if Fraser had one night stands either; he worked his innocent Canadian act so well you’d think not, but Ray wasn’t buying that as the full story. Sure, he wasn’t ever going to show up in the morning and say, _why now that you mention it yes I **am** in a good mood Ray; yes in fact I **did** get laid last night, thank you kindly for asking!_ But that didn’t mean it never happened. Everybody fucks sometimes, Ray reckoned; just some people won’t kiss and tell you about it after. He wasn’t even sure who Fraser would want to kiss and not tell him about; he’d seen the pictures of the bad-news girlfriend from a couple years back, but something made him think it wasn’t just girls Fraser might like.

He never asked him about that either, though.

Like he wasn’t going to mention the last person he did stuff with – didn’t even go as far as fucking, in the back of a dance club – hadn’t been a girl either.

And it was 20 years since last time it hadn’t been a girl. All that time with Stella he thought he’d grown out of that, when maybe after all he’d just had a particular fucking talent for fidelity. But after a few months working with Fraser, and hanging out with Fraser, and spending most of his free time with Fraser, and at the same time not getting any, he started _noticing_. Noticing in the way most of the chicks in the city _noticed_ ; in a way it was hard to stop thinking about. So once he caught himself noticing, he had to think about some stuff he’d thought didn’t need thinking about any more; and once he’d thought about it for a week he’d had enough of that. He figured he wasn’t a philosophical kinda guy, and it was best to just go out and see.

What he saw, in the chill out zone in back of The Untouchables, with a guy named Ryan pressing him up against the wall and Ryan’s breath in his ear and Ryan’s hand in his pants, was that he really, really hadn’t grown out of this _at all_. He came embarrassingly fast, and made absolutely sure by going to his knees and sucking Ryan off like he hadn’t done since he was – 16? Maybe 17, that last time with Joe? – but Ryan had no complaints about his technique, and even wanted Ray’s number after.

Ray let him down gentle though, said he’d just got out of something long-term and was figuring some stuff out and thanks man, you were a fucking revelation, with the best grin he’d got. Which came out real sweet and easy after the first sex he’d had in nearly a year. Ryan didn’t take it bad; he was dark and handsome and not even close to 30 and could probably even go again with some other guy before he split. But Ray had found out what he wanted to find out, and he went home buzzing with it and kept his number all to himself. 

Kept his revelation to himself too, (and the freak-out he had once the afterglow had faded), except he wondered if Fraser had clocked that he was noticing after that. But Fraser wasn’t a guy to ask a personal question in case you asked one back, and you don’t get so good with the tangential wildlife stories if what you really want is to be talking about your feelings. So they didn’t talk about it, which was greatness because now no-one knew anything to stop Ray offering, and Fraser agreeing, to share his bed.

 

 

He felt another complicated ache watching Fraser get into bed. Fraser winced as he lay down, but he’d said no to more painkillers and Ray wasn’t going to fuss over him. He left them in reach on his own side though, and slid in next to Fraser. And that was score one for weird. No one had _ever_ slept in this bed except him – one time he’d made love to Stella, but she’d gone home after and they were already mad at each other before she was out the door. She left an earring behind and Ray posted it back to her – bought a padded envelope and a stamp and put it in the mail because he couldn’t handle her jewelry in his bedroom if she wasn’t there too. Regretted it as soon as he’d done it, because he could’ve taken it back in person, couldn’t he?

That seemed a long time ago now, with Fraser’s solid presence next to him in the bed, his head dark on the pillow. And then he couldn’t help wondering, who the hell was _Fraser_ last in bed with? Surely no-one came home with him while he was living at the Consulate; there was barely room for one person on that camp bed. Seemed like he wasn’t used to sharing at all, because he didn’t seem that comfortable in Ray’s bigger bed either, kept shifting position and Ray heard a grunt of pain as he turned over.

“Fraser? You ok?” he whispered.

“Sorry, Ray. It seems to – ah- hurt a bit when I lie down, I must be keeping you awake…”

Fraser sounded embarrassed, like cracked ribs were a moral perversion he was inflicting on Ray.

“Sure you don’t want one of these?” Ray reached out in the dark and held the pills out to him without sitting up. Fraser accepted the bottle but made no move to open it.

“I find it hard to…think clearly when I take these,” he said eventually.

Ray understood about that. “Ok then,” he said.

“I’m sorry I’m disturbing you.”

“You’re really, really not disturbing me, Fraser. It’s ok.” He reached out and touched Fraser’s arm just for a second.

They were quiet for a moment, then Ray said before he remembered to stop himself, “It’s been ages since I slept next to anyone. I miss that. It’s nice having you here.” And god why did he _say_ that? They didn’t talk like this, he didn’t say things like this to Fraser!

Fraser’s head turned real fast to look at him. “Really?” he asked, surprised-sounding.

“Yeah. Really.” Ray said.

And surprising Fraser? He liked that. Liked those glimpses of Fraser’s needy side any time Ray told him he liked him. Had to watch that though; they were good, they were good like this, and Ray couldn’t give in to that reckless feeling he got sometimes when Fraser looked at him with his eyes all soft.

 

 

There was another silence, both of them breathing in the dark. Kinda reminded him of sleepovers in high school, staying at your buddy’s house and not sleeping practically til dawn cause you were talking all night. At first anyway. Then there was other stuff that happened that wasn’t just talking, wasn’t there? But he _wasn’t thinking about that_. He still seemed to be talking though.

“I always shared with my brother, see. Then I had a roommate for the year I stuck at college – he was a jerk, but anyway. And then me and Stella got a place together, and she was always there until she – til we – y’know, until she left. So I’m not real good at -” he almost said _sleeping_ but caught himself in time, “- living on my own. Which is why you are practically doing _me_ a favour, staying over, not the other way around.”

Fraser quirked a smile at that. He rubbed at his eyebrow and said, “Well, I’m glad to be of service.” He paused. “Although, I don’t think I’d be a very good roommate actually, Ray. I mean I haven’t had any practice, since I’ve never really lived with anyone. Except Dief. If wolves count, which I suspect they don’t. I mean he has his own idiosyncrasies to take account of, but he only stays with me as long as it suits him – there haven’t been any promises exchanged, so…” Yeah, like that was the main difference between people and wolves, Fraser.

“Yeah, well me and Stella had promises, and we’re divorced now so, y’know, everyone only really only stays with anyone as long as it suits them. ‘Cept maybe your parents.” Then, shit, he thought of Fraser’s dead parents, and his dad who apparently wasn’t there much even before he got himself murdered.

Fraser just went, “Hmm,” to that. Ray reckoned he’d only put his foot further in his mouth if he tried to explain what he meant so he left it.

“You really never lived with anyone?” he asked instead. “No roommates? Girlfriends?” Well hell, when was he ever gonna get a better opening? Fraser hardly drank, so a dark room and hospital pain pills that were wearing off were probably his best shot at an atmosphere of manly confidence.

“Ah, no. Well. I was in barracks a few months, and then – that is – no. A few days doesn’t count as living together, does it?”

Inside his head he was shaking Fraser and yelling, _who the hell did you live with even for a few days? I’m dyin’ of curiosity here!_ But he meant it that he liked Fraser, liked having him here, and a big ole’ point blank question like that would probably scare him all the way back to Canada. So he said carefully,

“Not to most people, I guess. But it depends how it felt to you, doesn’t it?”

Fraser thought about that. “I don’t think it counts,” he decided. He didn’t sound like it was a happy memory.

To distract him Ray said, “Well, you know, you ever wanna practice coha - cohabitation, come over here and I’ll give you some lessons. Like, toilet seat: down; boots: not in the middle of the floor; coat: not on the couch. The basics.” He was pretty pleased when that got a laugh out of Fraser. “Although, I’ve kinda regressed here so I probably do all of that wrong again.”

“Oh, if I really lived with you I can’t imagine that would bother me, Ray. On the contrary, I think it would be rather wonderful to come home and see your things in the middle of the floor and know you were there,” he said, the smile still in his voice.

And woah, really? Maybe it was pain pills making Fraser talk, but that sounded like the nicest thing anyone’d said to Ray in _years_. Which, it shouldn’t really surprise him that it would come from Fraser, should it? Because he could verbally punch you in the face and you wouldn’t realise he’d done it till you were halfway round the block, but when it came to being nice he could look you right in the eye and say, I trust you because you’re my partner and my friend, like there was nothing in the world to be afraid of. But it gave him a pang to think Fraser expected so little he’d be happy with someone’s damn boots in the middle of the floor. And then Fraser’s stuff strewn around his apartment suddenly sounded like all he’d ever wanted out of life, and he had to desperately backpedal inside his head to _not think about_ what that meant.

“Well, uh, right back atcha, buddy,” Ray managed.

“Actually, I think I _have_ left my boots in the middle of the floor,” Fraser said.

Ray grinned at him. “See? You’re a natural at this stuff, Frase. You’ve been wasted on your own in the great white north!”

“Ah, no, that’s really all down to you, Ray; working with you has allowed me to develop skills I never knew I had,” Fraser deadpanned.

“Well, any time you wanna work on those skills, you just say the word,” said Ray, hoping Fraser couldn’t tell how much he liked the idea. Because there were good reasons they were pretending not to notice each other, and day-dreaming his partner relaxed and messy into his apartment wasn’t going to help Ray keep up his side of that bargain.

 

 

A snowplough went past on the street below, and somewhere in the distance Ray could hear sirens. Then he was surprised to hear his own voice, because he didn’t remember deciding to say anything.

“After Stella left,” he began, and had to swallow around the lump in his throat. Apparently saying the words was enough to remind him how shitty that time had been. Fraser was looking at him, so he continued;

“After she left, I used to get these, like, panic attacks in the night. Like it’d suddenly hit me that I was alone – not just in the apartment, but like in everything, y’know? And maybe those years with her I’d been kidding myself I wasn’t alone, cause here I would be at 2 o’fucking clock in the morning, and it was just me, and it felt like some kinda, some kinda, funda- fundam - fundamental truth, that everybody knew, and I’d been lying to myself about it, and now it’d come back to bite me on the ass for thinking it was ever different.”

He looked over and Fraser was still watching him across the foot of dark air between them.

“You ever feel like that, Fraser?”

Fraser was looking at him like he had given away more than he’d meant to.

“I suppose,” Fraser said carefully, “that I always took it for granted I was alone. I mean it seemed like the natural state of things, you see, so if ever there was anyone else there, that was just a temporary…a  miraculous aberration that didn’t change the basic fact that we’re _all_ alone. _Of course_ we’re alone. So perhaps I never suffered that…contrast you describe, of having somebody there, then not having them…”

“Yeah, maybe,” whispered Ray. _Keep it together,_ _keep it together_ , he chanted in his head.

“Do you still feel like that?” asked Fraser after a moment.

“Not so much now, no,” he said, heart pounding. “You?”

“No, not really. No. No, I don’t,” replied Fraser, voice soft.

Stop looking at me, Ray thought desperately. We can’t talk like this if you keep _looking_ at me! And suddenly he couldn’t stand it and he squeezed his eyes shut and reached out blindly till he found Fraser’s hand. Fraser’s hand was bigger than his and he gripped back hard.

They lay there in the dark and neither of them spoke any more.

Outside the snowplough came back down the street and past the building, until the sound receded into the background hum of the city.

 

 

 


End file.
